


Like Sauza for Old Crow

by BlitheFool, DoubtingRabbit



Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Collaboration, M/M, Mutant Powers, PWP, Smut, Weird Biology, Weird Mutant Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 18:52:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4403240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlitheFool/pseuds/BlitheFool, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubtingRabbit/pseuds/DoubtingRabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things just go together and there's no two ways about it, as Remy and Jono find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Sauza for Old Crow

**Author's Note:**

> The lovely BlitheFool lets me read her drabbles, and this one (the first section is all her's) was so awesome (and because the world could always use more smut involving both these characters) I wrote out a continuation.

The hallways at the Jean Grey School were usually teeming with students and teachers all hurrying from one place to the other -a constant bustle that Jonothon found irritating, at best. That’s why he preferred the nighttime. Less traffic. Less mandatory human interaction. Occasionally you’d encounter another night owl. Sometimes Kitty had trouble sleeping. Jono knew because he’d often pass by the kitchen and see her eating Ben and Jerry’s from the tub at 3 in the morning. Wolverine was up at all hours. Once in a while he’d grumble a hello. Tolerated Jono because he knew he was friends with Jubilee, as far as he could tell. Strangely, he’d never crossed paths with Gambit, until now.

If Jono hadn’t been facing him, he never would have heard him coming. The tall brunette was alwas eerily silent as he sauntered down the hallway. Then he remembered that Gambit was- or maybe still is- a thief and the inaudible footfalls make a lot more sense.

Gambit nodded to him--red on black eyes giving him a once over. “You up awfully late,  _mon ami._ Jus’ getting’ back?”

Was Gambit under the impression that Jono has a social life?

 “Jus’, uh, wondering the hallways, really.” Smooth. 

“Can’t sleep?” 

“Don’t, actually." 

Gambit seems to ponder this for a moment. “Not never?”  

Jono nods mutely, wondering if Gambit is going to shoot him the same infuriatingly sympathetic look he seems to get from everyone else in this bloody place. The Cajun grinned, an expression that used every angle and curve of his face.  

Gambit could get a lot more drinking done if he never had to sleep.” 

Not the anticipated reaction. Alright. Jono taps on his bandages “Not really an option for me either, mate.”

“Suppose dat’s true ‘nuff. Still. Plenty of tings you can do, no?”

“Er, I guess?”

“You rather stay here an’ haunt the halls?” Gambit smirked, but not in that haughty way he has. He produces a cigarette from God-knows-where, lights it up in a single gesture.

“Instead of bar crawling an’ chasing skirts, you mean?”

“Mm. No skirts tonight.” He gestured with the cigarette, a dismissive wave. “Jus’ blackjack an’ liquor for Remy.”

He was leaning in close. Close enough that Jono could feel the heat radiating from his body. Close enough that even with his shoddy sense of smell he could pick up on cigarette smoke, cologne, and bourbon that cling to the other man. Gambit--Remy--is shooting him a more-than-slightly predatory smile. 

“So, what do you do all night den,  _Chamber_ ?”

\---

Jono agreed to eleven o'clock on Remy's promise of matching Jono's scorched throat, in his own way. And while he'd gone beyond wanting to be angry with the Cajun, to a strange emotional flavor of both charmed and annoyed, Jono knew that feeling two or more incongruous emotions at once was not uncommon in anyone's interactions with him.

So, he showed up at nine to a moderately-soused Remy, an intricate architecture of small, black tiles with white pips and lines catching the dim light the same way the silver label on the bottle to its left. All on display before him. From the looks of the other man's face he was quite proud of his work, but Jono saw none of his trademark cards in sight. Oh, he knew better than to think he carried none at all, even if his clothes looked all but painted on with no room even for a pack of cigarettes to hide, and where did he keep them-- no. Wait. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"What happened to blackjack and liquor?" Jono asked, reigning in his thought processes and took the chair that was toes out for him.

"Gambit changed his mind it seems, _cher_. Dominoes ‘n tequila." Jono's expression of surprise and mild confusion earned him an explanation. "Learned from a friend of your's 'n mine, ‘n listen when I say dat Julio talks a big game, but can't lay a game for his life. He right about one t'ing: you can't have Maker's Mark when you play dominoes. Tequila only."

To illustrate he took the bottle, gave it a flourish, and poured himself a(nother) shot, coughing when he downed it. Impressive, from what he could recall of the stuff in his own bar hopping days and legendary pub runs. Picking up a tile and examining it, Jono nodded.

"Some traditions are meant to be kept," he agreed.

\---

Drinking had been a foregone conclusion for Jono for quite some time, though he could confess to occasionally missing it. Usually when he had to clean up after a mate gone blotto, the urge left him. But he rarely complained. There were other things he could do to feel inebriated if necessary, like a ride-along.

  
As the first few rounds played out (thank fuck for Angelo, God rest him), Remy probed with a vicious curiosity into the offhanded mention of there being ways for a man to glean all the best parts of the alcoholic haze but with no blood to level with alcohol to speak of--

"It's a telepath thing, sorta'," he explained. "But I'm not readin' your memories or toyin' with your brain."

"Mmm-hm," was the Cajun's reply, clicking a tile to the lip of his empty glass. Three down now and only looking a little red around the tips of his ears, slower with a smile that lasted longer.

"I-- It's like I'm myself, but in your mindset. Seeing through your experiences. In your case, I'd be drunk. Or simulating drunkenness would be more accurate."

That caught Remy’s attention, eerily lovely, burned-out eyes turning up to him, glossiness of the tequila gone and that predatory glint in its place. He placed his tile with exaggerated deliberation and grinned, oh so slowly--it seemed to be the only effect the alcohol had on the man, because his tongue was as quick as ever, "Why, Jono! Are you sayin' you could get drunk on l’il ol’ me?"

"Essentially." Jono played another tile, splitting his strategy with a poor play to keep from reacting to the intense interest the other man showed.

"And you're not right now?"

"No."

" _Merde!_ Well, why th' hell not?!"

"Wouldn't be polite if I didn't ask, o’ course."

"Then ask."

"... may I?"

" _Mais oui, bien sûr_ ,” he said, played his tile, and another. He took the round as Jono slid the sensation of drunkenness over his head like a warm, Remy-scented jumper, and relaxing back in his chair for the first time since he arrived.

"Better, _cher_?"

The world was beautifully blurred in the way that made lights all the lovelier... and he could taste the tequila flavor of chocolate-and-ash on his tongue, still stinging from silver label tequila and an ache in his--wait. Did Remy gnaw his lips? He drew back, settled distinctly into the parts of the other man’s mind mind which were current experiences, instead of lingering sensations before he would respond.

"Mmm."

"Good, 'cause you owe me twenty five now, ah?"

  
\--  
  
There was no particular moment that Jonothon could pin down as being the point in which the night became overtly sexual, but the flirty banter had only escalated in the hour and a half since Remy took his last shot. Now, he sat languid in his chair, one boot heel hooked on the edge of the table, the heel rolling back and forth, and running a tile over his wet bottom lip in the most lascivious way.

And Jono could not stop staring. The lamp overhead had been off since he’d unstrapped the bandages, bathing the room in a low, red-to-gold light that caught the glint of the other man's most eyes and lit them in shades of red Jono had rarely seen. And, Remy had insisted on removing his shirt in 'solidarity'. Still the conversation was smooth, as sharing a mindset was certainly categorized as a diplomatic power, and had long since revolved around sex. Who was having it, who wasn't. The kinds they liked, had had before, first times. Celebrities and athletes they found attractive through the years. Teammates, too.

"What about now, ey?”

"What about it?" Jono couldn't blush but the 'you know what' look Remy gave him could have cracked 007 himself. "... it's different now. Than it was. I can, but it's hardly what you might call typical sex."

"Tell me about it," Remy replied, the tile falling rhythmically through his fingers smoother than water, when the white accents stopped being white and began to glow. He smiled and placed it down, the tabletop smoking slightly under the energy until it quickly diffused.

"Oh." Jono coughed a little, feeling the way the energy radiated from the tile, even though it lay cool now. "Could see where that might make things difficult.

"When th' lover has a body dat responds to kinetic charge? _Oui_."

"And when they don't...?" If Jono had a throat, he would have swallowed.

"Dat's when th' fun starts, _mon ami_."

  
\--  
  
It started with a kiss quite unlike any other he'd experienced, even after seeing quite a few other mutants in his many years stateside. Remy reached across the table and slid his thumb along the tenuous border of his mouth and when his powers sparked to life, it felt like a circuit was thrown open between them. Like a loop of perpetual energy in a feeding current between their bodies and their powers, rushing like metaphorical adrenaline through his figurative veins. Both men tensed for the damage, but none seemed forthcoming. Even that sensation of cozy inebriation Jono had slipped into became tinged with lust with the direct contact, and he wasn't sure if it was himself probing, Remy offering, or both. Or if it even mattered at all, when Remy’s four fingers lit up along his jaw.

When he was quite done acting like a whimpering virgin, Jono realized the other mutant had moved around the table without breaking contact, smooth as smoke, and straddled himself over his knees. There wasn't a word that came to mind that captured the almost-sweet and almost-heat non-smile on Remy's face, but Jono knew that words were far less necessary than this man's hands on his body.

The way he rolled his body to sit in his lap made Jono think momentarily of predation, but his touch was nothing if not reverent. An awe for the light that coiled around his hands, and how it seemed as easy to control as his own. Remy’s boad hands ran broad strokes down the frame of his chest until it met the edges where it all became solid.

Jono knows he should care and perhaps worry a little about what a joining of their powers like this could mean, but between four fingers of tequila and a mouth meeting his in a rushing, roiling, sparking way he'd never felt before... he just couldn't be assed.

His own hands came up to rest on the cajun's lean hips, pulling him closer and feeling that same current growing beneath both their skins. Jono sighed and dropped his hands to Remy's thighs just as those fingers turned to a palm, tested the borders of the energy beneath it, and then pressed past them.

It would be undignified on every level to acknowledge the yelp that traveled telepathically, overriding the one-way connection and making Remy laugh as he curled his fingers inside of Jono's chest in curiosity.

"Too much, _ma 'tee lumiere_?" he asked and Jono could feel the question reverberate through him, intent and interest sharp. He shook his head.

"No,” he said. And then, “More."

In a show of good faith, Jono traced his own thumb over a faded scar on the curve of his hip and then set to removing his tight black denim. Remy needed little more than confirmation and pushed his hand deeper. The expression on his face was near bewildered, cool power running over and through him as surely as the liquor, twining together with his own before splitting again. Not to mention that Jono's reactions were exquisite. His only reaction to the Brit's fingers tracing the exposed length of his sex--still half trapped beneath his jeans--was a soft moan and another electrifying kiss.  moving his hand to swirl in the eddies of energy near his navel. It felt like nothing had in a very long time, exciting and arousing and exponentially more profound.

The revery broke when Jono pulled Remy's sex free with a desperate tug, hands taking on the same curiosity as his partner's had inside him. Jono the spine of his cock with his thumb as he pumped along the shaft, his amusement at how someone as gone on alcohol as the other man was could be this hard showed in the curve of his eyes.

The thought hadn't even left his mind when he could feel the circuit close around them, a sudden surge in power when Remy's hand reached forearm deep into him and whirled over ... well ... something.

For a split second, the telepath flew into terror as it threatened to overwhelm him, looming overhead like an unstoppable storm--until the power suddenly siphoned through Jono's body and away. Still there, but somehow manageable with two to guide it.

It also seemed to have Remy panting and clinging, sex throbbing in his hand.

"What th' fuck was dat?" Remy marveled, but honestly didn't seem to care as he plunged his hand deeper, clenched a fist inside of Jono with an eagerness.

The world went ablaze with white as he bucked up in the chair, enveloping them both in tongues of telekinetic flame. His hand still ran over Remy's sex as the light refused to fade, knowing that the impending rush of energy was towering over him again. He couldn't care.

Cold lightning formed between Jono's palm and his partner's skin. Their bodies writhed entangled, the only figures darkened in a sudden and silent burst of energy that lit up the entire room with a midday's light brilliance. 

\--  
  
When he could take notice of the world again and his mind could absorb anything other than Remy's ragged breathing on his shoulder and where his forehead touched to the solid part of his shoulder, Jono took stock of the room. The horror of the implications of what they could have done together quickly faded as he realized the worst of the damage was light-bleached drapery, a warm splatter across his side and up to his shoulder, and a handful of dominoes sprayed across the floor.

A few smoked lazily where they lay... but the scademy building had seen worse days.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [ A little art to go with the story. Don't worry- it's safe for work ](http://blithefool.tumblr.com/post/137985146201/finishing-things-is-hard) -Blithe


End file.
